


My Boyfriend, the Non-Newtonian Fluid

by Moorishflower



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-20
Updated: 2010-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's not calling Castiel his boyfriend, but he <em>is</em> comparing him to a swimming pool full of custard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Boyfriend, the Non-Newtonian Fluid

  
"You're seriously going to let me?"

Castiel tilts his head, in that way he has, sort of like a bird and sort of like a confused dog. Dean never gets tired of seeing it, even though most of the time it means that he's just said or done something that makes Castiel see him as _human_ , rather than just "Dean". It's the same expression he'd gotten when he'd tried to get Castiel to eat a chili bacon cheesedog for the first time (he'd eventually succeeded, but neither of them had really enjoyed it), and when he'd tried to explain baseball to him, and when Castiel had watched him put a fake plastic scorpion in Sam's boot (because Sam hates scorpions, which strikes Dean as weird, you know, after everything they've seen and done). The _exact_ same expression, every time, a confused, slightly indulgent look. _Oh, you humans,_ it seems to say. _I'll humor you just this once._

But in a serious, holy, angelic way, of course.

"I see no reason why I should not," Castiel says. "If you are concerned about damaging this vessel, you needn't be."

"I know, Cas, I've hit you before."

"We were not engaging in sexual intercourse then. I am given to understand that the nature of our current relationship…changes things."

"It's changed a lot of things, but I'll still punch you if you're being a douchebag."

Castiel presses his lips together, as if trying not to laugh, and then says, "That is good to know, Dean."

"Shut up and just let me do this."

"As you wish. Do you desire for me to…"

" _Shut up_."

Castiel makes a soft, coughing, cut-off noise, and Dean realizes a moment later that it's laughter, stilted but real, and he can't raise his hand fast enough to hide his smile. He clears his throat, and then slowly balls up his fist.

"So, this is like that custard thing Sam showed me, right?" he asks, uncertain, still, but also a little bit excited. How many people get to punch angels and get away with it? Maybe he's the only one. "It won't actually hurt you?"

"I do not feel pain the way humans do. I recognize that my vessel is damaged and repair it according to its needs."

"Okay." Dean breathes out. He can do this. He's curious, and it's not like he's hitting Castiel because he's angry or he wants something. Castiel _agreed_ to it. It's an experiment.

He clenches his fist a little tighter, and then snaps his arm back and punches out, landing a solid hit against Castiel's shoulder. It's a good punch – Dean sometimes thinks he could be a professional fighter, even, if it weren't for all the many and varying ways that his joints are going to be fucked up before he ever hits forty. The ways they already _are_ fucked up. But punching Castiel is, as always, like hitting a brick wall, and Dean pulls his hand back and blows on his knuckles, as if it'll actually help. His hand stings. He hasn't broken skin, but it feels like if he hit any harder he could have.

"Ow," he mutters, and Castiel sits there, perfectly still and serene. " _Christ_."

"I informed you that…"

"Yeah, I get it." Dean shakes his hand a few times, just to get some feeling that _isn't_ pain back into his fingers, and then, just as slowly as he had pulled his arm back for the punch, he now extends his hand forward, and gently lays his fingertips against Castiel's bare shoulder.

"Sometimes I wish I could put a handprint here," Dean murmurs, and Castiel stares at him, all lamplit blue eyes and mussed fuck-me hair. His mouth is slightly open. "You feel that?"

"I sense pressure," Castiel says, like an admission, and then he exhales like he's been running for a long, long time. His voice is shaky. "I do not know if it is what you would call 'feeling'."

"You always come when we fuck."

"Feeling something and reacting to something are not the same."

"So you don't feel it when I touch you? When I'm inside you?" Dean presses forward, just a little, and watches his fingers dig into the curve of Castiel's shoulder. It's like touching a normal person. Soft, with the hard jut of bone underneath. He hears breath catch and knows that it isn't him, but Castiel looks so _still_. "You don't feel it when I kiss you?"

"I didn't say that," he says carefully, and then he gently curls his fingers around Dean's wrist, moving it away, and he pushes Dean back and down into the sheets, his stomach and his shoulders and his legs soft and warm and _human_ against Dean's skin, and yeah, Dean sure as hell feels _that_.


End file.
